


In Her Keeping

by mswyrr



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Vaginal Fingering, but she wants to be good to michael, philippa is not a good person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mswyrr/pseuds/mswyrr
Summary: Philippa decides that this new universe is full of potential.





	In Her Keeping

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to notyourfuckingalatea for the beta.
> 
> Warning: there's one surprise/forceful kiss that could be upsetting or triggering.

Alone in the ship’s small cabin, Philippa wanted for nothing. The bed was soft, food from the replicator was plentiful, and she could adjust the environmentals within reason. That was the way of this United Federation of Planets. They suffocated their galaxy with comfort, like an interfering nanny. Coddling the weak, oppressing the strong. Defying the law of natural selection. She had been confined here by a Kelpian, of all things. A tremulous prey animal, raised up to command humans. She could imagine no graver insult.

One question tormented her: what reason had she given this Michael to hate her? The girl had wrenched Philippa away from her universe, only to condemn her to a despicable fate in this soft place. This place of slow death. Denying her the noble end that was Philippa’s right.

Perhaps betrayal was simply inevitable between them. A constant across the universes.

Philippa calmed herself by listening carefully to every announcement that came in over the shipwide system. There was a small computer on her desk as well; her access was locked but it provided far more information than she would grant a prisoner. It seemed these people were in trouble. That could be exploited. She read through the data available to her, and calculated her options. She would not be defeated at the end of her long reign by sanctimonious fools.

When Michael came to visit, Philippa was more composed than her captor.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to check on you,” Michael said. She had exchanged her Terran armor for a plain blue uniform with silver accents. It didn’t suit her at all. Even the Federation’s uniforms were insipid. “Are you well?” she asked. There was a firm cant to her chin, but tension around her lips. She was upset and trying to hide it. This Michael was so different, and yet the expression was the same.

“I am faring better than your Federation,” Philippa said. “On the back foot before Klingon rabble…” She _tsked_. “This is what comes from weakness.” She had told Michael as much before. Would seeing it with her own eyes convince her?

“We are not defeated,” Michael said. “And we won’t be. Not here or in any universe.” She spoke like an emperor, as if her word was law. If she declared it, then it must be so.

Philippa had tried to instill that conviction in her own Michael. But she had perpetually looked to others for her strength, allowing herself to be swayed by their opinions. Was this difference in-born or was it the influence of Lorca, seeping into her daughter’s mind and weakening her over the years? Teaching her to listen to him rather than her own inner voice. However it had happened, this Michael was a fundamentally different woman, fashioned by a different life. And her motivations were opaque.

“Why have you brought me here, Michael?” Philippa asked.

Michael’s confidence waned at that, the proud tilt of her chin lowering. “I have no grand plans for you,” she said. “I just couldn’t lose you again. I—” Michael let her façade drop, as if she was not standing with an enemy. Pain and confusion came into her eyes. “I couldn’t watch you die.” It was the truth, so naked and vulnerable Philippa felt her breath catch at the sight.

Yes, this Michael was something altogether different. Harder and softer both. The steel of an emperor but a heart so full of sentiment. Yearning heat blossomed in Philippa’s gut, spreading tendrils out lower, making her feel things she had never felt for her Michael. She breathed slowly, letting the shift settle in. Accepting it with fascination.

Once she had mastered herself Philippa stood from the couch, approaching Michael slowly. “Do you intend to keep me here like a pet, then?” She thought over it carefully; now that she knew her own feelings she wondered about the nature of Michael’s. Why had she grabbed Philippa like a child with a beloved toy? “Or a doll. Would you have me dress in her clothes, bid me speak to you as she did?”

Michael’s lips parted in horror. “No! No. Your case will be adjudicated. Fairly. And you will be given every opportunity to—” She trailed off. “Make a life,” she finished, weakly.

The idea was ridiculous. Why not simply let a fallen emperor meet her grim fate? “Even the excessive scruples of your Federation could not require this of you,” Philippa said, watching her face.

Michael’s mouth twisted into a short grimace and then relaxed. “No,” she said. “They do not.” There was fear in her eyes, but hope too. Desperate, futile hope.

She must have simply taken what she wanted. Not thinking, just acting. She let her longing for her own Philippa make her weak. It was strangely endearing. Philippa didn’t matter to anyone here, had no subjects to her name. None but the heart of this strange young woman. Having found this power, she longed to test the limits of it.

Philippa came to stand before Michael, reached out to cup her cheek. “I thought you must hate me, but that’s not true, is it?” The skin of Michael’s cheek was so delicate under Philippa’s thumb. Michael’s lips parted. Philippa watched her irises dilate with pleasure. The answer to her question was very simple, it seemed. “Quite the opposite.” Philippa moved her hand down to grip Michael’s chin. Then she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, tightening her grip as Michael flinched away, her mouth dropping open.

Philippa released her, stepping back. The next move must be Michael’s.

“I am – I am _not_ your Michael,” she said, confusion and longing at war on her face. She was so beautifully transparent.

“Of course not,” Philippa said. “And I do not feel for you as I did for her. That should be obvious.” Michael didn’t appear convinced. Philippa’s mood soured at that. “I am no Lorca,” she spat, offended. This woman was a stranger she had only just met; her feelings were nothing like that man’s. Nothing at all. “Leave if you cannot see the difference,” she ordered, her tone falling into the long habit of command, though she had no power here. 

Michael looked at the door and then back. “I don’t understand,” she said. Her body seemed to sway toward Philippa, as if drawn by some mysterious gravity. Philippa’s interest rekindled: Michael’s body understood, even if she herself did not. If there wasn’t desire in her, she would have left. Or she never would have grabbed Philippa to begin with.

“Can you truly be so innocent?” Philippa asked, fascinated. “Must I explain you to yourself?” Had the mealy-mouthed Federation taught her to deny her own desires so thoroughly?

Michael shook her head. “Innocent?”

“You took me because you wanted me,” Philippa said, confident in that now. “No more than that. You try so hard to be pure,” she said, stepping closer, into Michael’s space, but not touching. No. Michael must be the one to do that next. “But you can be selfish. And cruel.” Philippa moved her eyes over Michael’s body, from the fine lines of her face to the athletic elegance of her compact build. She didn’t hide her appreciation. "It's beautiful on you.”

There was power in the air between them, hot and electric. Philippa felt it prickle over her skin and held her breath, eager to see what would come of it. Michael held herself back a long moment and then surrendered to it all at once. She moved close, cupping Philippa's face with both of her hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. It was firm and demanding. Philippa raised her own hands to stroke Michael's arms, parting her lips in silent invitation. Michael whimpered and pushed forward, licking and sucking at Philippa’s lips, needy and yearning.

Philippa’s own need rose and she responded, tasting the heat of this woman’s mouth, scraping her hands over the soft material of her uniform and down to her waist where Philippa dug her fingers in, pulling their bodies close.

Instead of reaching a fever pitch, Michael’s desire shifted, mellowed. She parted from Philippa’s lips only to kiss and lick her way down her jaw to the pulse point just below her ear, which she kissed and nuzzled.

She whispered Philippa’s name like a prayer over and over, clutching at her. Tasting her skin. Michael’s breath was coming short and desperate, though they had barely begun. She was as tense as a bowstring.

Philippa brought her hand up to the nape of Michael’s neck and stroked the warm skin there. She tilted her head back, exposing the line of her throat to Michael’s exploration. The thought of Michael’s needy mouth leaving bruises there made warmth pool in her lower belly.

Michael had achieved a great victory for her Federation. And the only place she had to turn for pleasure was the arms of their enemy.

They left their best and brightest bereft. What were Michael’s rewards for all her efforts? No riches, surely. These people were like monks, a civilization without wealth. No eager bedwarmers either; that was not how one rose through the ranks in this puritanical culture. And no slaves to provide for the comforts of her body.

No wonder Michael had taken her; no other rewards were forthcoming. This was information Philippa could use. If Lorca could manipulate these people for his own ends, surely Philippa could not do less. She had a sharper mind than that mad dog.

Michael was working at the latches on the left side of her breastplate and Philippa bought her own hands up to assist, taking those on the right. Soon they had it up and over her head. It was discarded on the floor. Philippa looked down at it with a pang of regret; it meant nothing here. Everything she had worked for was nothing.

But then Michael was cupping her breasts with a touch that was too soft, too tentative, looking at Philippa for guidance. Her eyes were so open. No deception, no games. Philippa felt the thrill of her power over this splendid woman, felt the possibilities unfurl before her. A new empire could be raised up from the ashes of the Federation. And Philippa could stand with a mighty empress to rule beside her…

But that was a plan decades in the making. Before her now was far more immediate satisfaction.

“I can take more than that,” Philippa said, bringing her own hand up to cover Michael’s. She squeezed her own breast with Michael’s fingers, showing her the pressure she liked, guiding her thumb to circle her nipple through the fabric. “Here, like this.” Firmly she brought Michael’s thumb and index finger together to rub and pinch. The small pain was sweet and sharp, fueling Philippa’s desire.

Michael watched her own hand, guided by Philippa, as if in a trance. Her eyes flicked up. “I’ve never –“ she was breathless, shy, “with a woman.”

Once she had became emperor, all of Philippa’s lovers were carefully vetted. Pleasant company with expert hands and mouths. But no heart.

Michael Burnham was all heart. And all hers. To claim and possess. Hone her fumbling eagerness into knowledge of Philippa alone.

“You are perfect,” Philippa assured her. She tightened Michael’s fingers on her nipple again, pinching hard and twisting. The sensation thrilled along her spine and down to her cunt.

Michael gasped, as if it was her own nipple being twisted. She brought her other hand up, squeezing Philippa’s left breast the way she liked.

_Perfect._

“I want more,” Philippa said, guiding Michael over to the bed. She pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it aside as Michael worked at her pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them down. With her boots still on it felt awkward, but then Michael was cupping her through her panties and Philippa didn’t care. She rubbed up into the contact like a cat in heat. Michael bent down to taste her lips and Philippa opened her mouth, drawing Michael in to suck the wet heat of her tongue.

Michael moaned and sighed and rubbed at Philippa, energy building between them. But, once again, the next step seemed to elude her. She pulled back, her wide brown eyes staring at Philippa in desperation. “Show me what you want,” she said. “Please.”

Philippa smiled. “If you insist,” she said. She leaned back against the pillows. She probably looked absurd with her pants half down her legs and her boots still on. She didn’t care, Michael’s eyes on her made her feel like a goddess. Philippa slowly drew Michael’s middle and ring fingers up to her mouth and sucked them in, hollowing her cheeks around them.

Michael’s eyes widened and she licked her lips, fixated on Philippa’s mouth. “What should I—” she started.

Ignoring her, Philippa pushed her panties aside and brought Michael’s fingers where she wanted them, thrusting her hips up to bring them inside. Philippa took them easily, sighing as the hot, yearning place inside of her was filled. 

Michael shivered and held too still, as if she was afraid of hurting Philippa. “Now move,” Philippa said, wondering about the poor girl’s lack of experience. Had she not even seen to herself properly? “Curl them, like this –” once more she guided with her own fingers over Michael’s, demonstrating.

Michael was a quick study; she mimicked the move and then continued on, growing bold. She varied her thrusts, going deeper and then curling, working her thumb near Philippa’s clit. Philippa let her eyes flutter shut. Lost herself in the urge to thrust, to fuck Michael’s hand. She felt Michael’s hot mouth come to kiss and lick at her breasts and smiled, resting her hand against the nape of Michael’s neck, encouraging. Michael delicately tightened her teeth around Philippa’s nipple, the pressure just sharp enough, and Philippa’s mouth opened in a cry as she came, clenching around Michael’s fingers.

She came down from her orgasm to the realization that Michael was still fully clothed. She reached out, unzipping the jacket. Michael shrugged out of it and then her lean, smooth body was pressed sweetly against Philippa’s cooling skin. Philippa wrapped her arms around Michael and sighed with pleasure. She wanted more, though.

“I want to feel you,” she said. Naked and eager beneath Philippa. Michael’s big, sweet brown eyes with the pupils blown wide.

Michael nuzzled her throat, giving her a kiss. “I have to be on duty soon,” she said.

Philippa’s hand tightened against her back. She felt cheated; she didn’t want this to end before she had her fill of Michael. “You will return,” she commanded, locking eyes with Michael. She was the one person in this universe who Philippa could command. “I have much to show you,” she promised, tracing her fingers along Michael’s spine through the thin material of her tank top. “And I will not be outdone.”

“If you’re sure,” Michael said, with sudden hesitance.

Philippa frowned. “What is the matter with you?” Couldn’t she allow herself a moment of pride in even this?

“You’re not a prisoner here, but,” Michael’s gaze dropped, “you are not free to leave. I am not sure it’s right to--”

Those tedious Federation scruples once again. They had been burrowed so deep inside this woman’s mind. It would take time to free her from them. Philippa looked forward to the endeavor.

Philippa laughed in her face and, in one swift move, slid her leg under Michael, flipping them over so she was on top. She pressed Michael’s wrists to the bed, gripping them tightly. “Don’t be absurd,” Philippa said, lingering laughter in her voice. “You keep me here only because I allow it.”

When she was on top, Michael had been desperate, tense. Longing for Philippa’s approval as much as her taste. But beneath Philippa she seemed to blossom, becoming as soft and eager as a kitten. She arched up against Philippa’s hold, not breaking it, pleasuring it. Philippa experimented, working her knee between Michael’s legs, rubbing against her. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut and she moaned. Philippa smiled down at her.

“You will return,” she commanded once again.

“What?” Michael asked. Philippa’s had made her forget her purpose. Good. She would leave Michael wanting more, the one in need of Philippa’s touch.

Philippa rolled off to lie beside Michael. “I believe you have a shift to get to,” she said, waving a negligent hand toward the door. She watched Michael gather her jacket and pull it on. Once Michael was at the door she cast a longing look back at Philippa. Philippa met her gaze, shameless in her nudity, her eyes promising things. Michael hit the door button and fled. When the door slid shut, Philippa smiled up at the ceiling. The campaign to take this universe would be sweet indeed.

 

-end-


End file.
